


we, in the eye of the storm

by weatheredlaw



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Aliens, Alternate Universe - Pacific Rim Fusion, Consensual Violence, Derealization, Father Figures, Gen, Male Friendship, Male-Female Friendship, Married Couple, Mecha, Memories, Mind Meld, Multi, Psychological Trauma, Shotgun Wedding, The Drift (Pacific Rim), Therapy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2013-07-24
Packaged: 2017-12-21 02:30:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weatheredlaw/pseuds/weatheredlaw
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If we don't end war, war will end us." -- H.G. Wells</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. the lady doth protest too much [carol]

**Author's Note:**

> Avengers in jaegers, man.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Carol." Steve's voice brings her back. "You can do this." She looks at him. " _We_ can do this."

Carol's fourteen when she sees a kaiju attack Seattle. She's with her family, visiting an old aunt. It's the third one, but she can't be sure, now. The memory is weak. 

She's sixteen when she sees her first jaeger. She's sixteen when she falls in love with metal and fire. She's sixteen when she decides that _piloting_ a jaeger is all she wants to do. She's read the stories and watched every interview and she _knows_ \-- she's more than cut out for it. 

Carol Danvers is eighteen when she leaves home and joins the program. She easily out-lasts the others in every challenge, beats them at every match, out-fights every last one of them, until Nick Fury hand-fucking- _picks_ her to co-pilot one of his Jaegers. 

Carol is twenty when Fury brings her on board. And a week later, she meets Steve Rogers. 

 

 

 

She doesn't understand, at first, what's so terrifying about the Drift. Everyone talks about it, scared of it, before they've experienced it themselves. The first few days after she's on the base, she hasn't met anyone she's Drift compatible with yet. And no one will tell her when she's supposed to. Fury brushes her off, orders her back to her room or to training. And she should know better, really -- the world is falling apart around them. Carol needs to blow off some steam, get this Drift shit out of her system, just for a while. 

She hits the gym, goes at the bag for twenty minutes before it makes a wide swing and she catches it. Someone whistles from the back of the room. 

"That's pretty damn impressive." Carol turns on her heel and catches a beautiful hunk of _man_ walking toward her, his hands coming together in a condescending slow-clap. "Nice work."

"Can I help you?"

"Steve Rogers. I heard we had some new recruits. Just thought I'd see what that academy of yours was spitting out these days."

Carol balks. She's heard _stories_ about Steve Rogers. Co-pilot of the Queen Albatross, seven kaiju kills since he joined up. She looks at her gloved hands and feels _small._ Steve extends one of his own. She takes it.

"Feel up to a match?"

"With you?"

He deadpans, "No, I wanted to watch you wrestle the bag for another hour. _Yeah_ , me. Unless--" He pauses as he turns around, throwing a grin over his shoulder. "--you don't think you're up to it." Carol nearly _growls_ , grinning honey slow and following him out onto the mat. 

Carol wins the match, which seems to take Steve by surprise, before his face splits in a grin and he has his hands around her shoulders. "Did you _feel_ that? You did, didn't you?"

"I--"

"We gotta talk to Hill. Right now." Steve drags her out of the gym and down a series of halls she's never been through before, shoving the other rangers out of the way before stopping in front of a door twice as big as the one that opens to Carol's own room. "Lieutenant! Lieutenant Hill, we--" The door swings open, revealing a severe woman with short, dark hair. Carol swallows.

"Yes, Rogers."

"Lieutenant Hill, I've found my co-pilot." 

Hill looks Carol up and down, inviting them into her quarters. She does a quick search of Carol's name and turns back to them. "Miss Danvers hasn't completed her preparations, Rogers."

"When she's done, then. She'll be my co-pilot."

"Fortunately, that's not for you to decide." Hill sits in her desk chair, brushing some of the holograms at her desk aside. "But I will put Miss Danvers's file at the top of the stack, for when that moment comes, if you'd like."

"Yes, ma'am, I would."

"Very good." Hill looks away from them. "You're dismissed." 

 

 

 

The preparations include a lot of things Carol doesn't have the patience for. There's meditation and breathing control and she already _took these classes_ , but Fury watches them with a solitary eye, the other covered by a smooth, dark piece of metal. Carol knows if she complains, if she sets one finger out of line, she's going back to Boston, back to the academy, back to whatever _nowhere_ life she had before this. 

So she blows the other rangers out of the water. 

Carol is twenty when she meets Steve Rogers. She's twenty-one when she climbs in their Jaeger, a beauty called Nomad, and Drifts with him for the very first time. 

 

 

 

" _Neural handshake holding strong._ " Sitwell's voice hits Carol's ears as she falls out of the Drift, gasping and sputtering for breath. " _Someone tell Barton he owes me fifty bucks._ "

"First one's tough," Steve says, looking over with a grin. "But you did good."

" _Danvers._ " Marshall Fury's voice sounds over the speakers. " _Talk to me._ "

"Thought you said this was gonna be _hard_ , sir." 

Fury huffs over the speaker. " _Don't get ahead of yourself, Danvers._ " Then, " _Good work, you two. Show us what you can do._

Nomad hums almost happily under Carol's feet, and she can feel every movement along every nerve, feel Steve thrumming in her veins and his memories in her head. Their arms, legs, hands, _minds_ move together and Carol feels like she could _fly_ if you asked her to. They shake out Nomad's shoulders, walk backwards, forward, load and unload their weapons. They move in perfect, elegant harmony. Carol has never felt so at ease in all her life.

Finally, she has found the place she is meant to be.

 

 

 

"Up, up, _up!_ " Steve is brutally shaking Carol awake from her bunk. "We got a category three, let's _move_ that ass, Danvers!" Carol blinks and throws herself out of bed and onto the floor, dressing in a flurry. Her stomach is in violent, jagged knots, cutting up her insides and threatening to spill out. They tumble into the elevator. Steve puts an arm around her. "You're gonna be fine."

 

 

 

" _We have a category three kaiju approaching San Francisco Bay. Category three, codenamed Redskull._ " Sitwell's voice sounds over the intercom, shaking Carol to her core. " _Angelfish is in position. Nomad, you may proceed._ " 

"Hey." Carol looks over and Steve is _beaming_. "You got this. You've trained for this. You're _ready_ for this." 

_Initiating neural handshake._

"Get ready, Carol." 

Memories flood her mind. The park by her house when she was a kid, driving across the country, school, her father, her brothers, her aunt's house in Seattle, watching the city burn to the ground, her mother shouting, her first day at the academy, her first kiss, seeing Nomad for the first time and Queen Albatross -- Steve's memories flood in alongside her own. A sickly boy, orphaned and trying to stay strong, growing up and growing big and hitchhiking across the country, seeing the first kaiju land in San Francisco, touching the swift, cool metal of the Queen's foot, piloting it with Sam, watching Sam move through the ranks, saying goodbye to Sam, saying hello to Carol--

" _Neural handshake holding strong. You're ready to drop._ "

Nomad's head drops down and Carol feels her body shake. She's going to be sick in her helmet, she--

"Carol." Steve's voice brings her back. "You can do this." She looks at him. " _We_ can do this."

 

 

 

The next forty-five minutes are a blur. Angelfish has its crossbow aimed, but ammo is running low. Carol can here one of the pilots, Barton, over her intercom, swearing up a storm. His wife and co-pilot, Morse, isn't any better.

" _Fuckin' waste of fuckin' ammu-fucking-nition, I fucking--_ " Redskull finally staggers, and Steve and Carol move in, Nomad's shoulder cannons charged. Angelfish's crossbow retracts, fists curled. As Nomad brings it down, Angelfish crushes the back of its skull. 

Carol can see the signatures for the kaiju's blood on her screen. Angelfish rattles next to her and she and Steve extend a hand, keeping it steady. 

" _You're all good, let's head back in._ " Sitwell orders the evac and they head back to base. Carol's on edge, tasting blood in her mouth where she's bitten her cheek.

"Go easier on yourself next time, yeah?" Steve's voice is a song in her ear and she almost weeps. "You did really good. I'm serious." Carol nods. "We'll get a beer after this. Put it on Barton's tab."

" _Yeah, I heard that, Rogers._ " Barton's tired voice sounds over the comm. " _Hear that babe? He's trying to bankrupt us._ "

Morse laughs weakly. " _Cute._ "

 

 

 

Steve buys Carol a couple beers after, and they sit in a comfortable silence, only talking to make fun of a table of jaeger fans. She can see their fight on the news, but they're not doing any press tonight. Tomorrow, they'll be out, Ranger uniforms on, smiling and waving. But tonight, it's just them and a couple glasses between them. Steve reaches out and covers Carol's hand with his own, and she knows she's going to be just fine. 

"Why did Sam leave the program?"

"He didn't really leave, he just...moved up. He was good at fighting, you know. Really good. Me and Sam, we were good together. Drifting for us was like surfing. You ever surfed?" Carol shakes her head. "Me and Sam used to go. He's in New York, monitoring the Atlantic now, you know that? Says there's no surfing. No kaijus over there either. But the government's so spooked now, you know. He wanted to be Air Force. Always did, when we were kids. I dunno, he was just made to be in charge I guess." Steve leans back, downing his beer. "He made the right choice. You know, me...I don't...I don't have much, I guess. Sam's got a great big family, he needs to be there for them when this is over."

Carol nods, staring into the foam. "You think it'll be over?"

Steve looks at the bottom of his glass, silent for a while. Finally, he looks up at her, and his smile is sad and tired. "Yeah," he says. "I think it will."


	2. he who laughs last [tony]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone knows he needs to get a few issues in check. Everyone knows he's had some problems lately.
> 
> Everyone knows that he's been chasing the rabbit.

Tony wants to know what the world's been expecting. 

Tuesday morning. He rolls out of bed and Jim's already up, brushing his teeth and watching the news. Tony pours himself a cup of coffee, glancing over when their schedule pings in the inbox. He's been assigned an extra meditation session. That's fine. He can take a hint. Everyone knows he needs to get a few issues in check. Everyone knows he's had some problems lately.

Everyone knows that he's been chasing the rabbit. 

Jim knows. Jim spits toothpaste in the sink and doesn't look at the schedule. Today, his doesn't deviate. Just Tony's. He clasps him on the shoulder as he goes to pull on his sweater, getting ready for weight training. "Take it easy, Tone. See you in mess." 

"Yeah. Yeah, see ya, honeybear." Jim just laughs and shakes his head, heading out into the hall. Tony stands at the sink, watching the last vestiges of toothpaste run down the train. He looks up. He needs to shave.

 

 

 

When monsters started crawling out of the sea, everyone looked at the army to fix it. America had subscribed to the doctrine of 'blow it up to shut it up' for so long that it just made sense to drop every explosive they could think of on the kaiju. And it worked. But bombs couldn't close the wound in the ocean floor. It couldn't stop the beasts from clawing their way to the surface. And by the time they were down everyone's throats, it was almost too late. 

Howard Stark thought he could make the biggest boom. He thought if he could blow the kaiju high enough, he could get in between the Breach and stop them before they ever came out. Stark Industries tried a hundred different things, pouring its money and resources into more weapons to use against the kaiju. 

But it wouldn't work. And Tony watched his father begin to grow desperate. He watched his father spurn the Jaeger Program, laugh in the face of the machines that could march into the storm. Howard Stark didn't believe in subtlety by any standard, but he had his limits. 

But Tony -- Tony followed the jaegers right into the sea. 

Joining the program was all he wanted, and Howard fought him tooth and nail over it. But Tony had wasted away the better half of his twenties, and he wasn't getting any younger. While Howard turned away and Stark Industries poured its money into the Kaiju Wall, Tony poured his soul into the jaeger program. 

 

 

 

He knew Jim in school. He knew Jim when he was a kid. He knew Jim and he needed Jim and Jim was everything and Jim meant everything and when it was time do this, to find his co-pilot, he knew that there was only one other person in this world who was allowed in his head, and that was Jim.

 

 

 

"We're doing very well, Anthony." Tony grits his teeth against the bile rising in his throat. The meditation session is over. He's _fine_ and he'll tell the Marshall that himself when he gets up to the deck today to check in, prove that he's trying to get better. Even though nothing was ever wrong. He leaves the session chewing on his tongue and bumps into the Barnes on his way out. 

"Rough day?" Tony looks right through him -- Barnes never talks, especially not to Tony, but he's going into meditation on his own, too, and there must be something to this business of finding yourself lost between the edges of the Drift. Tony looks at his feet. "It gets better." 

Tony wants to say something back something like _how the fuck do you know_ , but he's not feeling too clever. He lets Barnes go into the session and stands in the hall for a few minutes after before he heads down to mess for breakfast.

“Fury wants you to look over some readouts, make sure the engine on Angelfish isn’t busted.” Tony sits across from Jim, plate piled high with scrambled eggs and grins. “Oh good, you’ve stopped being a crab.”

“Hey.” Tony points with his fork. “You spend an hour in meditation every morning and see how good _you_ feel.” Jim laughs and shakes his head. “Angelfish better not be busted, or I’ll take Barton out back and shove his face against a turbine. Remind me, also, when he’s dead, to woo his wife.”

“You got no chance.”

“Nope, but I can try.” 

 

 

 

The first jaeger Tony and Jim piloted was a mach II, a rust bucket called Dagger Crises. She was beautiful, in her own way, but the workmanship had been shotty and it took two trips to sea for her to start falling apart. 

“Wouldn’t have been that way if I’d designed it,” Tony had bragged the week after their jaeger had fallen apart. Jim kept kicking him under the table. “What are you doing, _Jesus_ , don’t take it personally, Dagger could have been, like, at least a hundred times stronger if I’d gotten my hands on the wiring.”

“ _Tony. Shut. Up._ ” 

“I am just _saying_ that if I was the one making these things, we wouldn’t have any issues.”

“Really?” Tony spun around and there was the Marshall, in all his glory, eyepatch glinting in the poor fluorescent lighting of the mess hall. “At attention, Stark.” Tony scrambled out of his seat and stood up straight as Fury began walking circles around him. “Apparently, we have neglected to understand that you have something else to offer us, Ranger. Is that so?” 

“I can build a better jaeger.”

“Can you?”

“Yes.”

“You seem pretty damn sure of that, Stark.”

Tony huffed. “I _am_ pretty damn sure of that. The mach twos are falling apart. The mach threes need to be better. I can _make_ them better.”

Fury stopped in front of him. “Walk with me, Stark.”

 

 

 

“Matryoshka’s doing okay. Nomad needs its navigation calibrated, it’s a little off. Angelfish is good.” Tony wipes the oil from his hands and leans against his work table. “And, as usual, my baby’s doin’ just fine.”

Fury flips through the notes, strangely silent. Tony opens his mouth to say something. “Howard’s in the hospital.” Tony turns back to his table. “Stark--”

“They called you?”

“A doctor did, yes.”

“But he didn’t ask for me.” Fury goes quiet again. “I’ve got repair work to do on Nomad’s navigational system.”

“My office in an hour.”

“I think I’ll pass.”

Fury grabs Tony’s shoulder, wheeling him around. “That was not a _suggestion_ , Ranger. My office. One hour.”

 

 

 

“We’re men of iron, Tony. We’re steel and fire and we never bend.” Howard knotted the double Windsor at Tony’s neck and clapped him on the shoulder. “You’ll understand that, one day. You’ll see.”

 

 

 

Howard has cancer. Tony knows if his mother were alive, she’d have called and he had been at her side. But he’s sitting in Fury’s office, looking through his father’s chart. And his mother is dead and his father is dying and he has work to do.

“I’m prepared to give you a leave of absence if you’d like it.”

“Won’t be necessary.” Tony shuts the chart down and folds one leg over the other. Fury doesn’t seem surprised. “I finished the repairs on Nomad’s navigational systems. Should be good as new. Have Morse get me a printout after Angelfish’s next test run and I’ll make sure she’s doing okay. Aranea could use some touch ups on her boltings around the knees--”

“Your father is dying, Stark.”

“I’m aware of that. What I’m having a hard time processing is why youre seem to give a fuck.” 

Fury leans back in his chair, hands crossed over his knees. He leans forward and takes his coffee cup, sips for a while before pulling up the scheduled test runs. Ursa Major’s is tomorrow. Tony swallows thickly. “How’s your meditation work coming along?”

“Fine.”

“Fine,” Fury repeats.

“Yeah. _Fine._ You want, like, a dictionary? I could look it up--” Fury holds up a hand. Tony looks away. 

 

 

 

“ _Okay, boys, let’s do this._ ” 

Jim glances over. “Hey, man, you okay?”

“Fucking _ace_ , Rhodey. You put your diaper on this morning?”

“You’re never gonna let that go.”

“Yeah, well, you wet yourself one time, big boy--”

“ _Gentlemen. Can we start now, or do I need to call your mothers?_ ”

“Just Rhodey’s. She could be the team mom. Hey, that’s an idea, someone right that down, I’m kind all tied up right--”

_Initiating neural handshake._

 

 

 

_Tony. Tony get up. Tony._

“Pep.” 

_Hey, we’re gonna be late._ He reaches out to touch the pearls at her neck, but she sifts through his fingers. _You invited me, Stark._

“You look great. You look beautiful.”

_You okay?_

“I don’t know. My head. My head hurts.”

_Lay down, Tony. We don’t have to go anywhere. We can stay right here._

“I don’t think this is real.”

_Sure it is. You’re with me. How could it be anything else?_

 

 

 

“Pepper.”

“Nope.” Jim leans forward, pressing a glass against Tony’s mouth. “Just me.” Tony chokes it down and coughs. “You okay?”

 _You okay? Lay down, Tony._

“I--”

Jim set the glass aside. “You chased the rabbit pretty far. Been about two days now, since the test run.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah. Shit.”

 

 

 

Tuesday morning with the shrink.

“Tell me about Pepper.”

“I’d rather not.”

“Did she die?”

“No.” 

“Did she leave you?”

“No.” Tony tips his head back.

_No. I left her._


	3. fields have eyes and woods have ears [clint]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint figured, the day a kaiju dropped down in Vancouver, that it was just his luck. Because if it wasn't a deadbeat dad wrecking everything, then of course it would be a fucking alien.

Clint figured, the day a kaiju dropped down in Vancouver, that it was just his luck. Because if it wasn't a deadbeat dad wrecking everything, then of course it would be a fucking alien.

So he doesn't join the jaeger program because of any kind of control issue or inbred desire to prove himself.

No. He joins up because he's sick and tired of someone coming into his life and making a mess of it, for no good reason. So, yeah, if he's god a decade old grudge against some ugly-ass alien for wrecking his house and killing the guy who taught him everything he knows and sending his brother running scared across the country -- then he figured then, and he figures now, the best way to deal with it is to punch it til it's dead. 

And when he's inside Angelfish, that's exactly what he gets to do.

 

 

 

He almost didn't make it out of training. True story. 

He almost died. 

Sometimes he lays in bed and remembers it, Bobbi's head pillowed on his chest. He tries not to wake her up, but they Ghost Drift so often these days, it's hard not to. _Baby. Baby go back to sleep. I'm here. Go back to sleep._

He almost didn't make it out of training. True story.

He almost died.

 

 

 

When he came out of the jaeger academy, all he wanted was to get inside one. All he wanted was to find his co-pilot. Jaeger pilots were smooth, they were cool, and they got to punch the shit out of things. All Clint wanted was the punch. To hit and be heard. Maybe find a girl every so often who'd think he was the greatest, who'd want to show how much she, you know. Appreciated all the hard work he was doing. It was base and it was childish, and it's probably why Fury couldn't fucking stand him when Clint first got onto his base. Really. 

But that's what he wanted. And he busted ass getting through the preparations so he could find his partner. So he could get into the head of a jaeger and he could do what he came here to do. 

He didn't count on not actually _not_ finding a co-pilot. Not right away. Maybe it was a delusion, maybe it took as long as it seemed to take him, but the other Rangers in his group were being paired off and he was being shuffled to class after class. And when he looked at Fury for an answer, the Marshall wouldn't look back. 

"It can take time." 

He was sitting alone, watching Stark repair Ursa Major's helmet from the catwalk above. Clint spun around, staring at Lieutenant Hill's knees. "Ma'am?"

"It can take time," she repeated, taking a seat next to him. "Sometimes...sometimes it doesn't happen at all. 

"Bullshit. Everyone gets a co-pilot."

"No," she said quietly. "Not everyone.

 

 

 

Sometimes he is so deep inside Bobbi he can't find his way out. Her nails scratch along his back and she sobs, begs him to make her come. Sometimes, he is so overwhelmed with luck, he has trouble remembering what it was like before he had her. But he remembers. And so does she. 

 

 

 

The morning he met Bobbi Morse, Fury himself came banging down the door. Clint sat up in bed, grabbing wildly at the sheets.

"Off your ass, Ranger. You're sparring in ten."

" _What?_ With who?"

Fury turned at the doorway and, for the first time since Clint had met him, grinned. "Your future co-pilot."

When Clint stepped onto the mat, there she was, staff held behind her, mouth curled down defiantly. Fury stepped back to watch. 

"Sir--"

"Clint Barton." Hill stepped around Fury, her face curved into a rare smile of her own. "Meet Bobbi Morse. It seems you're both impossible to drift with." 

Bobbi scowled. "I told you I was done with this. You promised me a lab position, with Dr. Banner--"

"You will spar with Mr. Barton today, Miss Morse." Hill looked between the two of them. "Is that clear?"

"Yes, ma'am," they both intoned. 

"Very good."

Clint could see Bobbi visibly relax, all her muscles focusing in on one goal. She was lovely, and something inside him wanted to match her, reflex for reflex. Something inside him wanted to touch, wanted to understand. 

Point of contact. One-zero. He inhaled and so did she. He blinked and so did she. On the floor. She started taking the match. One-one. He started meeting her strike for strike. She gasped and he breathed. Two-one. On the floor, her hair falling out of the braid trailing down her back. Three one. Her eyes on his. Knees up. She rolled over. Four-one. Bobbi took the match. 

He had heard the others talking about what it felt like to be drift compatible, the surge of neurons, finding someone you could share everything with. He had no idea what it could possibly feel like when he finally found the real thing.

But he knew then. 

Hill crossed her arms behind her back, smiling at them both. "The match goes to Miss Morse. Are we done with this exercise, Rangers? Or would the two of you like to seek out positions outside the pilot protocol?"

"Negative, ma'am." Bobbi stood up straight. "I'll happily join Barton, if he'll have me."

"Huh?" Clint looked between them. "Oh, that's...yeah. Yeah that's fine." He was still recovering, trying to sort everything out. Bobbi turned on her heel and left the room, tossing her staff elegantly toward the others. Clint fumbled his, knocking most of them over before finally getting out of the room. "Morse! Hey, Morse-- _oof!_ " She shoved him against the wall, arm under his chin, pressing against his throat. "What the hell--"

"What did you see?"

"N-nothing, _fuck_ , I didn't see anything, I just _felt--_ " 

Her arm came off his throat. He sputtered. 

"I'll see you tomorrow, Mr. Barton."

 

 

 

"Were you going to kill me that day?"

Bobbi laughs next to him, folding the laundry with her legs curled under his. "What? God, _no_. Don't be stupid. I told you. I've told you a hundred times." She looks at him. "You got under my skin."

"Kinda the point, wasn't it?"

"Yeah. Doesn't me I liked it." She kisses him. "But I'd be more than happy if you got under my skin right now, Ranger."

"Would you?"

She hums, pressing her lips to his neck. "Sir, yes, sir."

 

 

 

" _Rangers, welcome to Angelfish. She was designed by Mr. Stark over here--_ " Tony waved from the LOCCENT. " _\--and she's going to be your home together for the forseeable future. Any questions? No? Great, let's see what you two can do._ "

_Initiating neural handshake._

Clint tried to breathe before, tried to calm himself down, but he was unprepared for it, for the images of his brother and his family, for everything that flooded through. But mostly, he was unprepared for Bobbi's memories, for her mother and her brother and watching her father go. For college and the shit she went through to get here, all the men and the figting and the desperate biting and clawing. 

When it was over, he was pretty sure they'd overshared. A lot. When the test run was finally over, Bobbi couldn't look at him. Their handshake was strong and they'd gotten through it all without a single hitch -- Sitwell kept saying he hadn't seen one that strong in a while -- but she kept her eyes down and walked briskly back to her room. 

"Morse. Morse!"

She wheeled around. "I really don't want to look at you right now."

"I, uh." Clint cleared his throat. "I didn't know that, you know--"

"That we were going to see each other getting off. _Thinking_ about one another."

"Yeah." Clint dropped his head. "That." It had been at the tail end. He'd seen her in the shower and she'd seen him in bed and they'd been thinking about one another and they had both felt it. He could still feel it. "I...sorry."

"Don't apologize, Jesus. It's just..." Bobbi looked down. "You saw everything. You saw _everything_ and I saw everything and now I'm _tired_ , Clint. I'm really tired."

"So we're done?"

The door was half closed, but she opened it up again, looking at him and smiling. "No, Clint. We're not done." Bobbi leaned up and pressed her lips to his cheek. "Not by a long shot."

 

 

 

" _Angelfish, get ready for the drop._ "

"Angelfish is ready for the drop." Bobbi leaned back and Clint caught her eye. "I hate falling," she said quietly.

"Don't be scared."

"I'm not." She looked back at the screen. "I'm with you."

 

 

 

They dropped their first kaiju together on a Wednesday. Nine days later, she looked at him and he knew. He knew where he belonged, absolutely, without question. 

"Fury's going to be so pissed," she muttered, signing her name at the bottom of the marriage license. Clint laughed, burying his mouth against the hair at her neck, taking the smell of his shampoo, her perfume. 

"What's he going to do?" He kissed her. "Kick us out?"

 

 

 

Back then, Fury yelled, he raged, he threatened to kick them off the base and take Angelfish away.

But back then, he'd needed them.

Thing is, now? That hasn't really changed.

 

 

 

" _Ursa Major to Angelfish. You're cleared for the kill shot. Take this fucker out._ " Rhodey's voice sounds over the intercom.

"You heard him, baby." Bobbi turns to Clint and grins. "Let's finish this."

"Great, I'm starved. Dinner's on us tonight, boys." 

" _Uh, no? Thank you?_ " Stark makes a noise. " _You two have the worst taste in food._ "

They draw back Angelfish's crossbow and let loose. The kaiju falls. 

"Then you pick, pretty boy. Command, this is Angelfish. We're all set here." Bobbi sounds confident, but her voice is ragged. Clint looks over and she smiles. "I'm okay."

"Yeah." They move. "I know you are."


End file.
